Travelled So Far
by Ridiculous Mavis
Summary: Ten years on Agnes and Elin meet accidentally in Stockholm. But they aren't teenagers anymore and they have to figure out what has changed and what remains of who they once were.
1. Chapter 1

"How do I look?" Agnes twisted to see her rear view in the mirror and fiddled some more with the collar on her shirt.

"You look very nice, very professional."

Agnes was fairly sure her assistant had not even looked up from her phone. But she felt good, powerful even. She hated the suit and the stupid collar. But she felt good. And powerful. That helped.

The door to her office opened and a deferential head popped through. "Ms Ahlberg, the car is here for you."

Agnes grabbed her bag, a satchel and a portfolio file. She checked her phone was in her pocket and headed out. This was going to be fun. With her boss off ill Agnes had to step in and supervise a days shoot for a big upcoming article. It was one of those much sought after "opportunities" and Agnes felt grateful it had at least arrived without her having to push anyone down the stairs.

* * *

Elin laid her head on the desk. It was showing every sign of being one of those dreaded days. She was only here on this damn shoot to help out a friend, who conveniently was now saying they weren't going to be able to make it.

"Hello?"

That sounded close by. It was probably for her. "Yes?" Came the muffled reply, spoken directly in to paper and wood.

"The magazine people are on their way. Where is your friend?"

"I don't know. Not here."

"What?"

Reluctantly Elin raised her head. "She is not here. I need an aspirin." She looked hopefully at the young man stood next to her. But he clearly was not going to get her an aspirin. He didn't seem to care.

"So who is doing the shoot?"

She considered his hair for a while. Clearly he cared very much about his hair. "That would be me."

He seemed to care now, in an upset way. Several emotions played across his face.

Elin waited patiently for him to reach acceptance before standing up decisively. "So. Let's do this thing."

There was some semblance of organisation before the magazine people arrived. Elin wished the suits would back off, give the experts room to do their job. They were always involving themselves, trying to be hands-on, hip and trendy when they stuck out like sore thumbs. She was studiously examining the camera equipment when they came to be introduced, making herself seem busy and serious.

"This is Elin Olsson," someone else, not the uncaring and unhelpful trendsetter from earlier was saying. "Unfortunately our original photographer wasn't able to make it but Elin stepped in, which may well be for the best, she is a very talented new... talent..." he started to trail off. "Miss? Are you okay?" he ended with some concern.

Elin looked up. A woman and a man in achingly fashionable suits were stood in front of her, looking back behind them. Her complimentary assistant stood further back with another woman in a suit, holding a hand up to her elbow in concern. Elin followed his eyes to the woman's face.

Agnes felt as though she had been shot, out of nowhere this cold draining sensation from her stomach right down through her feet. When their eyes connected it came again, a wave of pure surprise making her tremble. She saw Elin stumble back a step, walking right in to a tripod – mercifully empty – that fell to the floor with a crash, almost taking the blonde with it.

For a moment they just stared at one another. Agnes was terrified. And then, miraculously, Elin smiled. It curled over her lips and she gave a little nod. Agnes could breath again. Air rushed in to her lungs, she hadn't even realised she had been holding her breath. Holding her breath waiting for Elin to make some sort of indication. That it was okay. And it was.

"Yes," she said vacantly to the man stood next to her. "Sorry, I was just shocked. I know Miss Olsson, we went to school together, we haven't seen each other for ten years."

Elin was busy righting the tripod she had assaulted. The magazine people seemed to be cooing over this development. Elin took a moment to steady herself, before turning back round. She was introduced to the other two who were then whisked off for a quick tour, their companions seeming to think it would be a nice idea to leave the two reunited school mates alone for a few minutes.

"It's good to see you," Elin offered. She had thought about this moment, a chance meeting, for years. What would happen, how it would play out. If anyone would cry, shout, kiss passionately... if there would be slaps and recriminations, revelations of marriage or seedy affairs... whether it would be in Marrakesh, at a wedding or in the pouring rain... Not that she had put much thought in to it, mind.

"It is so good to see you," Agnes returned with a little more enthusiasm than Elin had.

"You look well."

"You too. So well."

Elin was beginning to feel uncomfortable. "Okay, so," she decided to lay down the law. "Today is already not great and I don't think I can cope with another... distraction. Sorry. So do you think maybe we can pretend you are my client, we are just colleagues, and then I can take you out for a drink afterwards?"

That was more, far more, than Agnes had ever dared hope might happen. "Of course," she said quickly. "Of course."

Elin nodded distractedly and turned back to her equipment before relenting and turning halfway back to Agnes again, but not quite meeting her eye. "It is good to see you."

* * *

So later that evening, after the shoot had wrapped, Agnes and Elin were sat in a cheap bar at a high table, sipping their drinks. Agnes had taken her suit jacket off and settled it on the back of her chair. Elin's scuffed jeans hung down over her converse trainers as she let her legs swing free. They began a cautious dance around one another.

"How is..." Agnes realised blankly that she had forgotten Elin's sisters name. That had seemed impossible, at one point, so tightly wrapped up in each other as they had been. But now she was drawing a complete blank. "Your sister?"

Elin did not notice. "Jessica? She is well, very well. I am an auntie! Two little girls, just like us both, seven and four. Serious, serious trouble I imagine." But Elin clearly adored them, her face lit up when she spoke of them.

"And your mom?"

"Yes, she is well also. Looks after those two a lot. She enjoys being a mormor. A lot less stress than being a mamma."

Agnes chuckled a little. Without thinking she started on her next question as seemed only polite. But it came to another faltering end. "So is she still with..?"

"Markus? No!" Again Elin came to the rescue without even noticing.

"Oh." Agnes wasn't sure why she was surprised. Sure that hideous couple had suited each other but she was also a little pleased for Jessica. Markus had been a dick of the highest magnitude.

"She got with Johan after..." Elin stopped herself from saying "you left", it seemed accusatory. So she just abandoned that thought and ploughed on. "Which was good, I mean, I was really happy for her."

"Oh," Agnes said again. Johan? Really? She knew there had been flirtation but clearly Jessica had gone further than that. She never imagined Jessica being happy with that sort of yes man, but then maturity did things to you.

"And how are your family? Where are your parents now?"

"In Berlin, actually. They are well though. No grandchildren or anything. And Oskar is studying in London." The "grandchildren" part had come with a little more jokey levity than she had intended. It was something of a sore point between her and her mother which had spilled out venomously at an unfortunate time, when she was trying to act cool and hold it together.

"Wow, London."

Agnes feigned enthusiasm, pulling a funny little unimpressed face, rolling her eyes a little.

"Hey," Elin reached over and put her hand on Agnes's arm, shaking her about a bit. "You made it to Stockholm."

Agnes smiled fondly, almost despite herself. Stockholm – anywhere but Amal – had seemed like the only answer, back then. Nostalgia swept over her. When they were so young, so naïve, so sure that the magical answer lay somewhere outside of themselves. Stockholm had been the answer but they hadn't even known what the question was.

Elin smiled back as she removed her hand, bringing it back to her glass. Agnes looked uncomfortable, in a good way. Still Elin tried to mind herself.

"I'm sorry, I always do this. We should talk about the weather. Or politics, current affairs. I'm a little better read than I used to be. But still can't mind my own business."

Elin remembered when that hadn't been needed. Being a teenager had suited her temperament. So immediate and intense. No time for niceties. Straight to the nitty gritty, the heart of things. The complicated dance round other adults, never saying what you thought unless completely obscured in code had never been something she was good at. Always second guessing, pre-empting, it wore her out.

Agnes had always been buttoned up and that had been like waving a red rag in front of Elin.

"No," Agnes felt compelled to object. "It's nice. I like hearing about good old Amal. I..." She wanted to say she had enjoyed her time there, that it held so many happy memories. But that was a bit much, a bit insensitive given that she had fled without so much as a backwards glance at the earliest opportunity.

"How long have you been in Stockholm?" She asked instead.

"Pssh," Elin said, idly playing with her straw. "Nearly a year now."

"Oh," Agnes echoed. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting. That Elin had arrived just yesterday? That they would have immediately been drawn together in such a huge city, fate unable to hold them apart?

"I didn't even know... if you were still here."

"Yes," Agnes sighed, caught in despondency again. "Still here."

"Here is good," Elin smiled. "It took me all this time to get here. I did live in Karlstad for a few years. Then I got this chance. You can imagine I didn't hang around."

At this Agnes had to laugh a little. Clearly Elin was still as impatient as ever to be on the move. "And how do you like it now you are here?"

"Very much indeed. Even in Karlstad," she said, her voice mocking, "You cannot stay out dancing all night."

Agnes nodded. And still the insatiable party animal. "Is that what you do?" She tried to enquire discreetly, lowering her gaze to fiddle nonchalantly with her napkin.

"Yes I'm afraid so. Do I disappoint you? Sorry." Elin was unapologetic though, a little caustic even.

"No, I just... I hardly go out. I'm busy and... my... friends," was the ironic word she finally decided upon, "Don't like it."

"Huh." Elin's gaze was clear and direct and was most certainly not fooled. In an entirely related enquiry she asked "So, is there anyone special in your life?"

Agnes didn't think she had wriggled very well out of that earlier hole she had dug for herself. Smooth work Ahlberg. "Well, yes, well I live with my partner, actually."

Elin nodded, completely unsurprised. "What's her name?"

Agnes coloured. "Kamilla."

"How long have you been together?"

"Three years."

"What does she do?"

"She's an editor. Publishing. Stuff."

Elin nodded. It might have seemed like a bit of an inquisition but she couldn't bear waiting for Agnes to spit all of that out. It would have taken weeks if left to her own devices and possibly had to involve some sort of Chinese water torture to elicit those three simple bits of information.

"That's nice," she enthused, Agnes' complete lack of enthusiasm not lost on her. "Lovely. I hope I can meet her soon."

Agnes' breath caught as she sipped from her glass. She stifled a cough. Elin was just sat there watching her, lips pursed, eyebrows ever so slightly cocked. It wasn't an aggressive stance but Agnes felt under scrutiny.

"Y-y-you?" In a desperate bid to steer attention away from herself and politely reciprocate the question came out without Agnes thinking and she wasn't sure she was ready for the answer.

"No." Elin was matter of fact. She swirled the drink around in her glass with just the slightest pensive touch. "No one can keep up with Elin."

Though very much relieved at the reply, without really wanting to delve in to why, Agnes found herself desperate for more. She had often, well not _often_, occasionally, thought about Elin's subsequent relationships. It was only realistic to assume there had been. Elin was an inordinately attractive looking girl with a wildly attractive personality to match. Even whilst their relationship had been infamous at school Elin was still being constantly propositioned. Once Agnes had left goodness knows what sort of a feeding frenzy had taken place.

Only now did Agnes consider other aspects and ramifications of her conduct. To go from being one half of the only out teenage gay couple anywhere near their circle to completely alone. She felt ashamed of herself, both for her conduct then, which was a subject she was familiar with beating herself up about, but also newly that she had never considered some of these other aspects in all these years. Elin was the brave one, the rebellious one, the popular one, the one who could bend others to her will by sheer force of personality. Wasn't she?

The Elin sat in front of her was in so many ways so similar to the one Agnes had known ten years before. Deceptively so. It was easy to imagine she was the same person, that everything had gone on just as it would always have. And yet here she was. A little thinner, for the first time since laying eyes on her Agnes thought maybe a little too thin. A little darker around the eyes, not just her distinctive eye make up and not something make up could cover. A little edgier, a little deflated, not just in a trying-to-be-grown-up way.

"I'm sorry," Agnes blurted out, unable to stop herself. "About – about what happened."

Elin looked up at her, in to her, a slight frown on her face. "It doesn't matter," she said simply, as though it were obvious. "It's all passed. In the past. Passed." She can't quite decide. "But anyway, it's best not to think about it." There is no flicker of resentment, goodness knows Agnes was searching so carefully she would have seen it. Elin seemed genuinely not to be concerned.

Agnes felt better now that was off her chest. It had been the elephant in the room the whole time.

"But now, I think I need to get off home. And you, you must be exhausted. It's been a long day."

Elin nodded her agreement. But she wasn't sure how this needed to be left. She knew she wanted to see Agnes again, that there was still more to explore. She liked this new and improved Agnes and wanted to get to know her better.

Thankfully though Agnes took the initiative. "I'd really like to see you again. Here's my card," she produced a robust cream creation from her pocket. "Come to the office, I normally finish at six. I can show you around and we can do this again." Agnes wanted the next step to be Elin's so the younger girl felt in control and that she actually wanted there to be a next step.

Elin nodded, again.

Agnes got up and put on her jacket, picking up her bag. "I'd really like it if you did. But, if you don't, it's been really wonderful to see you again. Take care."

Elin, who hadn't said anything for a while, didn't say anything again. She just smiled and nodded and watched Agnes leave.


	2. Chapter 2

Elin had gone home and lain dramatically on her couch. She had fished Agnes' card from her pocket, detached the bit of chewing gum that stuck to it, and held it now turning it over in her fingers. She wasn't sure how she felt about any of this but she wasn't going to run from it. Denial had never got her anywhere, ever. So she had now a policy of following all paths that were open to her, just to see what happened.

Duly the next day she attended the great building of glass and steel, signed in and road the glass lift through steel bars up to the ninth floor. The incredibly well groomed young lady sat at a desk looked Elin up and down with distaste. Elin did a curtsey. The woman scowled. Happily Agnes appeared before hostilities could escalate.

"Elin, thank you for coming. Come in, I just need to finish a few things." Agnes disappeared back in to the office and Elin followed, throwing the secretary an overly cheerful smile.

Agnes was already behind her desk again. Elin sauntered around, looked at the framed certificates and articles on the wall. A photograph of Agnes receiving some sort of award.

"So..." she began in her usual style. "You are a writer after all?"

Agnes flushed, her eyes still on her emails but acutely aware of Elin's progress around the room. "Yes, I suppose. Not the kind I wanted to be. But yes."

Elin nodded. "You could write fiction, it's not so much of a leap. At least you are writing every day."

Really Agnes could only agree. She had worked hard and been very lucky to get so close to her childhood dream and recognised that as a blessing most people did not get to enjoy. So whilst she sometimes berated herself for her lack of ambition and achievement she did not lack appreciation and humility.

"You have done well though."

Agnes smiled, a little embarrassed but appreciative of any complimentary or kind thought coming from Elin.

"Okay," she said firmly. "That is done. No more. Quit." She clicked quickly out of everything, shut the computer down, turned on her voice mail and picked up her bag. "Ready?"

Elin was looking out of the window, watching the people and cars on the street down below, a view she quite enjoyed. "Yes, ready."

In the lift things got marginally uncomfortable. Agnes wasn't sure what to say, she fiddled with her bag and her mobile. Elin stood rocking on the balls of her feet, smiling a little at the predicament they had found themselves in. Down on the street Agnes questioned where they might want to go.

"There are a few places near here people go from work."

Elin giggled a little. "No offence Miss Ahlberg, hot shot literary person or whatever, but I don't think I want to go anywhere people from your work do." Hands in her pockets she half leaned in towards Agnes as she did so.

Agnes' stomach churned a little. She had been putting so much stock in to being adult and grown up and here was Elin making her feel sixteen again.

"Well... my apartment is nearby?"

"Now that sounds like a plan."

Agnes took the slight lead down the street towards the Metro station. After bumping along in a now more companionable silence for a few stops they disembarked and took a short walk to a renovated apartment building, trendily still using its old goods lift set off with a lot of exposed brick and bare timber.

Agnes struggled with the door once she had it unlocked, tugging it open. Elin provided a shoulder to help.

"Sorry," Agnes felt silly. "It's a stupidly heavy door. I can never manage it."

Elin shrugged. "How long have you lived here?" she asked as they entered. It was open plan with high ceilings and big windows. It gleamed with stainless steel, all sharp edges and fashionable light fittings. Elin wandered freely in while Agnes hung back.

"Two years."

"It's so nice," Elin trailed her hand over the back of the couch. "So trendy and chic!"

Agnes was secretly disappointed. She hated the apartment but that is what everyone always said so she imagined that must be true and she must just be crazy.

Elin was trying to be enthusiastic. It was a nice space, light and airy. But so clean! So minimalist. Her favourite thing about Agnes' room had been all the little secret curiosities it held. She still remembered the first time she had been there. Everything had been so intriguing. Clutter and odds and ends piled high, little mementos. If she had ever imagined Agnes' life away from Amal it had been that times ten. A whole little house full of Agnes-paraphernalia. This was so much more cold and clinical.

"I could never keep anywhere so... tidy."

Agnes certainly knew that to be true. Obviously yet another thing that the blonde had not outgrown.

"Would you like a drink?" Agnes opened a cupboard and revealed a goodly amount of alcoholic beverages.

"Mm, yes please, I'll have a whiskey."

Elin watched Agnes put the bottle on the counter and open a brushed glass cupboard full of expensive looking glasses for every type of drink. A short glass was selected for Elin, Agnes poured herself a glass of wine.

As Agnes took the glass to hand it over to Elin she thought the other girl was looking at her in a peculiar way. "Are you okay?" she checked.

"Yes, of course." All of a sudden it was all washed away and Elin was carefree again. She started chattering excitedly about something and she was off.

Agnes was carried away by Elin's mood. Her levity had always been so intoxicating. Everyone got carried away on the wave and Agnes was no less susceptible. Of course the flip side was that her grumpy darker moods were also all-consuming in their wrath.

A few hours later the drinks were no longer in the cabinet but precariously perched on a coffee table for easier refill-ability. Both Agnes and Elin were sat on the floor, backs up against the couch, laughing uncontrollably at some story about the olden days. The huge front door started to grate open. Agnes looked up sharply, Elin was still corpsing and wiping the tears from her eyes.

Agnes scrambled to her feet, wobbling a little and holding on to the couch.

"Good evening," said the new arrival.

Elin looked up. Agnes was now standing nervously next to this other woman, who was fashionably dressed and ten levels of gorgeous.

"Kamilla, this is my friend Elin, from Amal."

Kamilla smiled politely but Agnes was still terrified.

"Hello!" Elin bounded up to Kamilla smiling broadly and held out her hand to shake. "Agnes has told me so much about you. You have a lovely apartment."

Agnes flinched, she was fairly sure she hadn't talked about Kamilla past Elin's three question streak in the bar yesterday. Elin was so genuine though and Agnes doubted whether perhaps she had told more than she remembered or Elin thought she had been told more than she had.

Kamilla did love her apartment though. "Thank you," she smiled. "Has Agnes shown you around properly?"

"A little?" Elin wasn't sure what the appropriate response was. Agnes hadn't really but she didn't want her to get in to trouble for not. Or get in to trouble for having shown her around. Or whatever Kamilla's agenda actually was.

"No, I suppose not," Kamilla sighed but it was good natured. "She forgets all the important interior design features anyway."

Agnes stood behind Kamilla and Elin caught her eye. She looked put out but no less relieved. Elin wondered how much Kamilla knew about her. What was there to know about her? She had had a teenaged star crossed romance with Kamilla's now partner. She was Agnes' first love. And now she was in Kamilla's home. Okay so it sounded bad when you put it like that. But Agnes had left her, had abandoned her in Amal and they had not seen each other in ten years. Agnes was successful, accomplished, had this beautiful girlfriend and this beautiful apartment. Elin had a terrible debts, no career to speak of, a leaking bath tub, a bad headache and still no mirror. She just couldn't seem to help breaking the damn things.

"Okay, well... you can show me around properly some time. Now though, I should go. Let you two have some time together." Elin moved for her coat from the back of the couch.

Agnes nodded, liking the sound of Elin leaving, but Kamilla seemed put out. "You'll have to come over sometime soon."

"Okay." Elin smiled at her. Then to Agnes, "Thank you for this evening. It was nice. I'll see you around."

Again all Agnes could do was nod. It wasn't until Elin had left the apartment she realised she had no contact details for the other girl. Elin was still holding all the cards.

"She seems nice," Kamilla noted, starting to tidy away the bottles from the lounge area.

Agnes was made irritable by Elin's sudden departure and now Kamilla's reasonableness was making her suspicious. "Why did you have to do that?"

"What?"

"You know, about the apartment and "you'll have to come round soon". All that."

Kamilla was hurt. "I was just trying to be nice, to your friend."

Agnes didn't know why she was feeling so on edge and simply remained on the couch, sulking.


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn't until three days later that Agnes was sat at her desk and heard a familiar raucous voice outside in the corridor arguing with the secretary. A delighted smile broke over her face involuntarily. She had been horribly concerned that Elin would not be back, that things had been too weird at her apartment or something. She had certainly felt weird.

"Hello."

Before Agnes had a chance to move Elin's head was round the door.

"I'm not interrupting anything am I?"

Agnes shook her head quickly.

Elin turned back out the door. "No it is fine, thank you for your concern, I will go in now." She slipped in and closed the door, backing herself up against it. "I don't think your friend out there approves of me very much."

"She does not approve of many people. Me included." Agnes reassured, though was sure Elin needed no reassurance in the matter. "I am glad you came."

Elin shrugged. "I figured you wouldn't mind. Feel free to throw me out."

"No, not at all. I was just finishing up." That was a big fat lie. She hadn't been intending to leave for hours. But she worked too much anyway.

"Okay, so we can go get a drink or something. Or, if you are up for it, I can return the favour and you can come round mine."

That was exactly the offer Agnes had been waiting for. "I've shown you mine so you'll show me yours." And that was in no way what she had meant to say.

Elin smirked as Agnes blushed.

"Anyway," Elin said. "Come on."

It was a significantly longer trip to Elin's shabby apartment block. Also playing the good hostess Elin motioned Agnes towards the main living area and herself went in to the slight alcove that acted as a kitchen.

Agnes wanted desperately to be offered chocolate milk.

"Tea, coffee? Or cold drinks? Or something stronger?"

"Coffee, thank you." It was not to be. Agnes supposed things could only endure so far. It made her sad, not that she was particularly addicted to chocolate milk, but that this was an element of Elin that had been lost somewhere along the way side.

Elin nodded and fetched the coffee from the cupboard. She would have the same, though she wasn't a great fan. The tea and coffee were squeezed in to the corner of a cupboard filled entirely with packets of chocolate milk that she hoped Agnes would not notice.

"I didn't tidy up," she said, stating the obvious but not apologising for it.

Agnes sat down on the settee. "It looks fine." It didn't. But despite the mess Agnes quite liked the place. It was chaotic and lively. "You live here on your own?"

"Oh, no," Elin stirred the coffees. "How do you like it?"

"Black," Agnes replied.

Elin wasn't surprised at all by that. No frills, no nonsense. She picked up the thread of the previous conversation whilst pouring a huge amount of milk in to her own. "With a friend of mine, a model."

She brought the two mugs over. Agnes was looking up at a large canvas intimate photograph of a beautiful young woman hanging on the wall opposite.

"With her?"

Elin looked up at it and smiled brightly. "Yes. I took that of her. Do you like it?"

Agnes nodded mutely, taking her drink as Elin remained gazing up at the portrait. She felt miffed and put out and ridiculously jealous. "Were you and her... are you..?"

"Together?" Elin laughed and sat down on the other end of the raggedy couch. "No, not at all."

Agnes, still feeling irritable, though reassured, decided to push her luck. "Have you been with lots of women?"

There was a pause and Agnes realised she had overstepped a boundary and with bad intentions. Just as she was about to apologise though Elin spoke.

"I had thought perhaps it was just you." Elin was quite calm and collected about it. It was almost a scientific curiosity to her, her own sexual desires. Certainly for a long time – before Agnes even – people had treated it as though it were some sort of great human experiment. How many guys could Elin kiss in one night? How many guys had Elin slept with? And then the incessant gossiping during their own relationship.

Once Agnes had gone and Elin had been the sole and lonely recipient of vaguely kinky enquiries on an almost daily basis and her sexuality was regarded as almost something to be feared or at least beheld with awe. In her playful desire to be always pushing some boundary or someone's buttons she had embarked on a varied expedition through modern sexual manners. Varied but still not as frequent as people liked to think.

"But it was not just you."

Agnes wasn't sure whether to be relieved or a little put out. The details as to how Elin had arrived at this conclusion were missing and again Agnes could not decide whether that was a mercy or an intrigue. She never knew how to think around Elin, she realised.

"So you have been with other women?"

"Oh yes," Elin was borderline cheerful about it. "And men. And men who wanted to be women and women who looked like men. And women who only liked men and men who only liked men. And people who didn't like anyone and people who only liked toys and games. All sorts."

Agnes could actually feel her eyes growing larger and more disbelieving. In order to stop them from rolling from her head she closed them briefly and put her hand to her face, just to make sure they were still there. When she opened them, even though it had only been for a fraction of a second, Elin was looking at her.

"Do I shock you?" It was almost a challenge.

Agnes frowned. She had always been quite happy in considering herself strait-laced which was an irony not lost on her at school where she was regarded as some sort of sexual deviant whose practices – in practice – and desires were in fact more vanilla than those that most of the rest of the school was practising. Certainly Elin had never given any indication during their relationship that she might like to... explore... other ways of doing things but then Agnes was equally sure she had never asked.

This needed to be handled carefully. "No," Agnes decided on. "It only makes sense that you wanted to explore things, be with different people. It must have been very enlightening." She tried to laugh, but couldn't.

"I suppose it was. But not something I am in a hurry to go back to." Elin felt no shame but equally no desire to return to that period in her life, mostly confined to her early twenties when life had been one long pretty queer party. It had been hard, too. She was content to look back on it with fondness, knowing she had outgrown it.

Agnes nodded. So it was over? Whatever phase that had been? That was a relief. Elin had always been on the look out for something new and interesting, she consoled herself with. But instantly she felt disingenuous. Agnes herself had been "new and interesting" to Elin but it had still been important and real and Elin had given it her whole soul. Elin had never disrespected her, so she would not disrespect anything about Elin.

"Do you want to play some Playstation?"

Agnes laughed. It was a bit left field. Also: "Playstation? How old are you?"

Elin took mock offence. "I am twenty seven and it is quite normal for young, urban women to play Playstation."

Agnes considered the proposition and then relented. "Okay. But I don't think I will be very good."

"No," Elin agreed, earning a swat on the arm. "But I'll pick something fun. Lego Star Wars?"

This was a significant distance from Agnes' comfort zone. Her instinctive response was to poke fun, to belittle Elin. That shook her.

"Yes, of course. It sounds fun."

And it was fun. There it was again, Elin being such effortless company. She was so unreserved and held nothing back. Agnes was just immersed.

For her part Elin just enjoyed seeing the dark haired girl laughing. She knew she had this power over people and nowadays she took pains to use it for good, to help people feel good about themselves. Everyone tried so hard to be someone else. When she was younger she had wanted so desperately to be grown up. Now she was an adult she desperately wanted not to grow up. Life was ironic that way.

Agnes had gotten wrapped up in that veneer of adulthood. She had subsumed her own needs in an effort to pursue that completely unattainable goal, Elin knew that. But underneath she was the same intense, nerdy girl with a wide open heart that Elin had first been so irresistibly attracted to. Compromise was necessary and important, especially in relationships. Elin had never quite got the hang of it but she understood it to be true. She also understood the difference between compromise and the betrayal of your own ideals, or if that were a bit far fetched then the doctoring of your own self to suit others. She had been well aware of that during the time she had first come to know Agnes. And it had been hard. But she counted herself lucky to have had the essential education so early.

"You're going the wrong way," Agnes berated her.

"Sorry, sheesh, get you, so bossy already."

In retort Agnes dug Elin with her elbow so Elin put her hand over Agnes' controller to disrupt her in retaliation. They continued with their game, squealing and laughing and engaging in some more underhand tactics even though they were ostensibly playing co-operative. They had some beers, ate some chips and eventually Agnes decided she had to go home.

"I enjoyed tonight."

"Mm, me too." Elin was piling dishes on top of already perilously piled dishes.

Agnes leant against the door frame. She had become so comfortable so quickly back in Elin's company but these parting moments were stressful again. Like in the early days she was seized with fear that they might be the last time, which was ironic considering how things ultimately turned out.

"At least now I know where you live."

Elin smiled mischievously. "Would you like my cell number?"

"Well, yes. That would be less stalkerish."

"Mm," Elin could only agree. She held out her hand and motioned for Agnes' phone, typing her number in quickly. "Now you have my number but I don't have yours. So you have to send the first text."

Agnes realised Elin had not been oblivious to the fact she held all the cards thus far and was now willingly surrendering them, both with the invite home and the phone number.


	4. Chapter 4

In the end Agnes didn't text, she rang. It was Saturday morning, she thought maybe they could go and get some lunch and spend the afternoon in the city. She was excited to get out and about with Elin, to take her to some of her favourite places and see whatever interesting things the intrepid blonde was sure to have discovered.

Agnes realised how often Elin had been in her thoughts. At first, after she had left Amal and arrived in Stockholm for university, she would often think to herself offhandedly, "Oh, Elin would like that" or "I'll have to remember to tell Elin". But she never did and the pressure and the shame grew each week until it became insurmountable. Even after that, even quite recently, she would sometimes catch herself wishing she she knew Elin's opinion: on a place or an event or an idea. Sometimes she could almost hear Elin in her head, sat at her mum's kitchen table sounding off about something or another whilst mixing yet more chocolate milk.

But in those imaginings, she now noticed, Elin had always been younger. She had never grown past the sixteen years she had when Agnes had left. Even when discussing contemporary events Elin had remained the same. Although she didn't look much different, that didn't help the separation of things in Agnes' mind. She didn't act particularly different either. Agnes had a moments waver, a moment of thinking perhaps she was going insane, had completely lost it. But no, other people had seen and interacted with Elin. Independent witnesses. Unless she was imagining that... no. If she wasn't mad before – which she wasn't, she affirmed to herself – she was likely to drive herself mad shortly.

Agnes quickly turned her attention back to the task in hand. The ringing stopped but no-one answered.

"Hello?" Agnes thought perhaps Elin had put the number in wrong. "Hello?"

"Oh, hey, Agnes."

"Elin? Are you alright?" Elin sounded odd, as in, more so than usual.

"Mm, yes, fine. Thank you. How are you?"

"I'm good. You don't sound very well."

"Well, no, I suppose not. Rough night and all that."

"Were you sleeping?"

"Yes. But it's okay. I just..." Elin trailed off. "Hang on."

Agnes could hear the phone being put down and Elin shuffling. Then there was the unmistakeably horrible sound of vomiting. She hung up the phone, picked up her coat and headed out the door to the Metro.

A bleary looking Elin answered her door sometime later. "Oh it's you," she said blithely. "I was wondering where you had gone."

"I was worried about you."

"I'm fine." Elin backed off and allowed Agnes entry.

The flat was even more of a mess than the last time Agnes had been in there the other night. Elin herself looked terrible.

"Were you sick?"

"Mm, a little. Better now though. Must have had a dodgy drink. One of the dozen or so." Elin was going for a comedy angle but Agnes wasn't feeling humorous.

"Sounds like a great night." Agnes didn't know what was happening to her. She hadn't come halfway across the city to moan at Elin.

Elin sat on the couch gingerly and sipped water from a bottle. "I'm getting too old for this," she muttered.

"For what?"

"You know, partying, drinking, getting out of it." Elin cast a glance in Agnes' direction. "Though maybe you should try it. Loosen you up a bit." She wasn't sure what she had done to deserve the morality party hassling her in her own flat. Apart from throw up whilst on the phone, but that wasn't strictly her own choice.

"You were on drugs?" Agnes accused.

"It's just a little coke. Everyone does a little coke." Elin was cheerful, dismissive.

"No, Elin, they don't."

Immediately something changed in Elin. She was nowhere near as wrecked as she allowed herself to appear. Straightening up and fixing Agnes in a steady gaze she did not waver. "I think I missed," she pontificated, "The part where you got to have any say in how I run my life."

Agnes lips curled in derision. "I don't need this." She picked up her coat and headed straight out the door.

"Nope," Elin agreed with the empty room. "And nor do I."

* * *

Feeling mildly recovered some time later around lunch Elin ventured out to the shops and the chemists for essential supplies. She stood dejectedly in the grocers, overwhelmed by the decisions she was forced to make just in order to buy some bread. Times were hard, options were everywhere. She wasn't really sure what had occurred earlier, why Agnes had felt it necessary to come over seemingly just to pick a fight. Presumably something else was going on, larger than her, she rationalised. Whatever.

She was always a target for people to vent their steam at. The fact she had an interesting but largely blameless and enjoyable life meant people with boringly self righteous surface level lives that were teeming with regret, condemnation and general ill feeling were always on to her. If that was how they coped with their own inadequacies so be it. Elin kept a healthy distance. She had no deeper levels, everything was out on display, she was just Elin.

And when she got home Agnes was sitting in her hallway.

Elin stood over her as Agnes looked up submissively.

"I'm sorry."

Elin leant back against the opposite wall.

"I am sorry. I had no right. I'm just concerned about you. And yes I realise how stupid that sounds... considering."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

Elin went to unlock her door. "Yes."

Agnes couldn't believe it. She scrambled to her feet. "Okay?"

"Yes, Agnes," Elin turned in the doorway. "What do you want me to do? Would it make you feel better if I were angry? I can't be bothered, Agnes. I don't have the energy."

"I'm sorry."

"So you keep saying."

"Well what do you want me to say?"

"Nothing. I don't want you to have to say anything. Because I just don't want you to do the things that need apologising for. You don't need to fix me, Agnes. I don't need fixing."

"I'm s-" Agnes stopped herself. "You are right. I know you are right."

"I've managed all these years."

Agnes didn't want to hear this, didn't want to know about Elin's broken heart, about all the awful things she had endured. Because of her. And that was selfish. That was bending the past to her own will and Elin deserved more than that.

"You know you were -" Elin searched for the words. "You were more than my girlfriend. You were my best friend."

That was emphatically not what Agnes had been expecting and it cut her more than anything else she could have imagined. Tears stung at her eyes.

Elin could not bear to look at her. Her gaze rested halfway down the wall. "I'm going to Amal, next weekend. You should come. It would be... cathartic."

Agnes looked up, hope filling her watery eyes. "Really?"

"Uh huh." Elin nodded, still not making eye contact.

"Thank you." Agnes knew she needed that. She needed to go back, confront some demons, before she could go forward, wherever that was to.

* * *

"Where were you this afternoon?" Kamilla's tone was of interest, not probing or accusatory.

"At work." Still Agnes could not bring herself to tell her.

"Poor baby," Kamilla muttered affectionately. "I missed you."

Agnes forced a smile. And she was most certainly not going to tell her the truth about next weekend. "I'm sorry," she said automatically. "And next weekend, I have to go away to some junket thing at the university in Uppsala."

"That sounds interesting. But we had those tickets..."

"Shit, I'm sorry." Agnes cursed the damn opera or ballet or whatever it was. "I forgot. I said I would cover it. You know, what with the boss being off."

"No, no of course. You should go. Go and make yourself indispensable." Kamilla seemed genuinely pleased for Agnes, which turned Agnes' stomach. But, there it was. The first glimmers of infidelity.

Or so Agnes thought. She realised actually that wasn't true. That had begun the first day she had met Elin again, that she did not come home and excitedly tell Kamilla about an old school friend reunited. Or even before that, when she had never really told Kamilla the fallout and guilt over her first love from all those years ago.

Then Kamilla compounded the situation. "I was worried actually, a little, that you might have been with her. With Elin."

"Oh? I haven't seen her for days." Agnes just about squeaked.

"I know, it's silly. I like her and I'd like to meet her properly, but I was afraid you – I was afraid you might fall back in love with her or something."

Agnes didn't know how to even concoct a lie to defend that. It was preposterous, she knew, because she had never fallen out of love with Elin in the first place. She still was in love.


	5. Chapter 5

Elin had text Agnes and told her to come over to Elin's flat as early in the afternoon as possible on Friday. Agnes appeared duly just after lunch with her little over night bag having taken the afternoon off after fabricating yet another little trip with Kamilla this time. She had text her brother, Oskar, and told him she was going to Amal but not that Kamilla didn't know. A tangled web of different lies. But Elin never asked what Kamilla might have been told so there was no need for yet another. Agnes wasn't sure whether it simply never occurred to Elin to ask, that she was so forthright these kind of manipulations and secrets would never occur to her or whether she did know and was just doing Agnes a favour by not prying.

She waited out the front of the building while Elin gallumphed down the stairs with supplies and provisions enough for a fortnight, dragging a huge wheeled suitcase behind her as well as a large rucksack and sundry other bags.

"We are going just for the weekend?" Agnes felt compelled to query. She did not want to be kidnapped long-term with just two pairs of underwear.

"Yes, yes," said Elin, having heard these responses to her packing before. "I just like to be prepared."

Elin slipped a set of keys out of her pocket and pressed the fob, thrilling at the beeping sound emitted nearby. It all seemed very civilised. She hauled herself a few steps further to the swish silver car with the blinking lights and popped open the boot. Agnes gamely helped her wrestle the suitcase in and the rest of the luggage was deposited on the back seat.

Agnes got in the passenger door and looked around inside. She had not taken Elin for a luxury car person, indeed she had only seen her use public transport thus far.

Elin plopped in the seat beside her and spent some moments looking for the ignition. The car was a bit over the top but for some reason hire places didn't do much of a trade in beat up old Volkswagens, which was more Elin's style. Eventually she realised there wasn't an ignition, she just pressed a button.

Agnes appeared concerned. "Are you going to be okay driving?"

"Yes, of course. Why?"

"You just don't seem to know your way around it very well. Does it not get much use?"

Elin was damned if she knew how often it got used. "I should have had them show me but I could not be bothered. They just dropped off the keys."

Agnes was now more confused than concerned. "I don't..."

"Rental," Elin pointed out.

"Oh, right, of course!" That made so much more sense.

"You did not think it was mine?"

"Well, no, I thought it a little odd."

Elin seemed to take offence. "Why? You think I couldn't own a car like this?"

Agnes feared she had been outmanoeuvred in to a trap. "No! I just -"

But Elin began to laugh as she pulled out in to the oncoming traffic.

Agnes was relieved, her leg had been pulled. But her hands gripped tightly to the sides of her seat. Elin's driving was exactly as she should have realised it would have been. It was going to be a long four and a half hours.

* * *

"We're not far off," Elin pointed out as a sign for Amal whizzed past.

Agnes' head jerked up from where she had been drowsing. "I should be able to check in at the hotel by now. Will you drop me off there first?"

"Hotel? You shouldn't have done that. You could have stayed at Jessica's or my mamma's."

Agnes laughed. "Elin I am too old for sleeping on floors." And there was no way she was being confined in close quarters with any of Elin's family, lest her throat be cut in her sleep.

"Pfft!" Elin exclaimed. "Too old!"

"I am! I'm going to be thirty next year."

"Thirty? Wow. That is old."

"Hey!" It was one thing to say it yourself but another have to have someone else laughing about it. Not that Agnes minded. She knew what Elin meant.

Elin was in truth a little shocked, even though she was mostly jesting. Thirty? How had it come to this? She herself was twenty seven, just. Agnes had about eighteen months on her, which was something she tended to forget, imagining them to be the same age. Even though it had always been obvious in school, in different grades and then with Agnes going to on to upper secondary college a year ahead of her. And then... well, leaving for university.

When she had been fourteen, when she had first met Agnes, and when she had turned fifteen shortly after she felt like she would be a teenager for ever. The thought both pleased and horrified her. But she had been half of thirty and now it was looming up here in front of her and her friends. She had probably joked about it, how ancient it was. But she still felt like a kid now, a child trapped in the life of an adult.

Looking back, they had been so young. And conversely, being sixteen was probably as old as she had ever felt. So desperate to be grown up. It had all been downhill from there, in a way. Sixteen was the oldest she had ever been. When Agnes left and broke her heart she realised how things didn't really change and since then had never managed to attain the adulthood she had thought she would. It had been a fabrication. Like mist it was perpetually a few steps further away.

Elin pulled off a slip road. "I'll drop you and go over to Jessica's. Then I'll pick you up later and we can go for dinner."

That sounded like a supremely civilised plan, Agnes thought. "But won't you want to spend time with your family?"

"Yes, silly. We'll have dinner at Jessica's."

That definitely did not sound civilised.

"It'll be fine, I'll tell her now you are coming and I've got time to grab some extra food or whatever if we need."

"She doesn't know I'm coming? Does your mom know I'm coming?"

"I never got round to it." Lies. She had been scared to.

This had moved beyond simply "not civilised" to a whole new level of madness, Agnes decided.

* * *

Agnes got out the car at the hotel and bid goodbye to Elin, who would return in a few hours. Agnes took her bag up to her room and looked out the window over the dull grey landscape of the motorway and bridges, a few high rise apartment blocks punctuating the view. One of them had been Elin's and in the past she probably would have known which. They all looked the same now though. Her own old house was on the other side of town, not far but not visible from this angle.

There had been no particularly pleasant memories attached to that place until Elin came along and breathed new life in to it. Agnes had moved around a few times, she was used to it. But it got harder the older she got – the more she wanted to fit in and establish a solid base from which to strike out in to the world.

Tomorrow she would go out and have a good explore and reminisce, whether good or bad. First she just had to concentrate on getting through tonight. She took a shower and waited for Elin's call.

* * *

Elin parked the car and rang Jessica, who descended to meet her at the front door.

"Elin! Are you moving in?" Jessica was dismayed at the sight of all the baggage. "Don't you have a flat of your own?"

Elin pshawed at her. "Well help me then."

"How did you even get it in here?" Jessica struggled with the suitcase in the boot.

"Ah. Well, someone helped me."

"How embarrassing, some stranger on the street no doubt?"

"No, actually," Elin was trying to stay upbeat. She hadn't had – or thought about having – this conversation for a reason. Because she really didn't want to. But, here she was.

"Well then? What are you talking about?" Jessica was irritated already and her younger sister had only been here two minutes. Where was Johan? He had wisely stayed away from the unloading.

"I, um, I met someone. And they have come with me."

Jessica peered in to the car, worried for a moment one of Elin's new lovers was about to be sprung upon her. But it was empty.

"You met someone? Why didn't you say so? They are in Amal?"

"Mm," Elin squeaked. "At the hotel."

"But Elin, why didn't you say? What about dinner?"

"I'll help with dinner."

"But the chairs... the girls will have to sit at the counter..." Jessica was already rearranging the seating plan, which made Elin smile. Also, she had dodged a bullet.

The suitcase eventually flopped out of the car and they struggled through the front door and called the lift, waiting longer than Elin had ever been able to get used to. Jessica carried her bags and Elin manoeuvred the monster suitcase.

"So," Jessica picked up on the previous thread of conversation. "Who is this new person? When did you meet? You never mentioned – was it recently? But why would you bring them to Amal?"

Elin noticed she wasn't actually being asked any of these questions. They were just being spoken out loud. Also her sister seemed to be hedging her bets in not referring to any specific gender. Nice try, but Elin was about to disappoint.

"Actually..." she began, cutting Jessica off. Now or never type thing. "It was more of a recent reunion."

Jessica fell quiet. Elin intently studied the lift buttons. "You remember Agnes?" Elin heard her bags fall from Jessica's arms. She winced a little, still not looking.

"Agnes?"

The lift pinged as it reached Jessica's floor. The doors creaked open but neither moved. "Agnes?" Jessica repeated.

"Uh huh," Elin confirmed.

"Agnes Ahlberg?"

"Yes."

Then it happened. "Of course I remember – how could you bring her here? What are you thinking? How could I forget! What does she think she – how dare she -"

The lift doors closed and the lift started going back down.

"Shit!" Jessica stabbed at the buttons. "Elin what is wrong with you? Why would you even – how could you even – are you insane?"

Elin didn't say anything, but she did venture a glance at Jessica's face. It was not a happy face.

The lift settled at a floor and the doors opened. An elderly man peered in at them. "Up or down?" he queried.

Elin shrugged at him. He got in and pressed for the ground floor. They travelled in silence. When he got out he looked behind him but they didn't move. He shook his head and carried on. Elin pressed the button for Jessica's floor again.

When the doors closed Jessica turned to face Elin, taking her shoulders. Elin worried she was about to be throttled.

"Elin, listen to me." Jessica seemed reasonably calm and Elin was hopeful. "God knows I am only going to say this once in our lives so you had better listen. You are my sister. I love you. You are beautiful and very annoying. You could have anyone in the world. Literally, anyone."

It was a curious mix of inspiration and insult and Elin quite enjoyed it. Although she took it to mean Jessica was not a proponent of an Agnes and Elin love-resurrection.

The lift came to their floor again and Jessica threw a foot against the receding door to avoid another ridiculous trip.

"Whatever, you make a mess of your own life if you want. But I won't have her in my house."

Elin knew she didn't mean it. She always gave in to Elin in the end. She smiled in that knowledge as Jessica opened the door.


	6. Chapter 6

Elin called Agnes' phone when she arrived at the hotel. The first thing on Agnes' mind when she got in the car was Jessica.

"Did you tell Jessica I was coming?"

"Yes." That was all Elin felt safe to say, pulling out and setting off on the short drive.

"Was she okay?"

"Yes?"

"That does not sound positive Elin." Agnes admonished.

"Okay, so we had a bit of an argument. But it's okay now."

Agnes was not reassured.

And indeed once they arrived Jessica was not at all happy to see Agnes. They had reached a careful detente over the two years or so they had been forced by their proximity to Elin to be in proximity to each other. That delicate contract had been set on fire by Agnes' disappearance and Jessica had enjoyed dancing on its grave. Johan also flinched slightly when she first entered the room. But they put on a passable appearance of civility and managed to get through some basic chit chat and nibbles without any fatalities.

Agnes allowed herself to be guided all over the flat by Elin's adorable nieces. Elin was in the kitchen helping with dinner, though in what capacity Agnes could only imagine. She excused herself and went to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face and reassuring herself she was doing fine.

When Agnes exited the bathroom Jessica was stood in the hall. Agnes had an awful school days flashback as Jessica took her arm and guided her in to a nearby bedroom, closing the door.

"When you left," Jessica paused, almost too angry to even speak. "She was destroyed."

Jessica was pretty menacing, or so Agnes was quickly remembering. But this, what was being said, was what Agnes had feared the most. Not that she might feasibly be beaten up over it, but that Jessica was right, telling her a truth Elin had been unable to.

"But we agreed!" Agnes's plea was in vain, she didn't even believe it herself any more.

"You agreed to take a break. She agreed to that because what else could she do? She couldn't come with you. But she did not agree to be completely abandoned. She did not agree to not even be friends any more. She needed you. You dangled something in front of her and then you stole it away."

Jessica had been inching closer as she spoke and they were now almost nose to nose. The bigger girl noticed this and took a few steps back but Agnes was not comforted.

"If you hurt her again -" Jessica began.

But Agnes cut her off. "I won't." It was an automatic reaction, high pitched and panicked, but, she realised, no less true. "I won't," she repeated, steadier, taking in the promise to herself as well.

Jessica was a little peeved she did not get the chance to go in to the finer parts of the havoc she would wreak on Agnes' life. "I do not like you," she settled for. "But my fool sister does. And – even though she is a complete loser – I just want her to be okay."

It was not a glowing recommendation but it would do. Agnes gulped and nodded. Jessica gave her one last look up and down, smiled a wonderfully fake sarcastic smile and left the room.

Agnes exhaled and her legs shook. Gingerly she sat herself down on the bed. She had almost recovered by the time one of the girls arrived to drag her to the table.

Mercifully the Olsson-Hult tribe was an incredibly noisy and rumbustious one so Agnes was able to fade in to the background, paling against Mormor Birgitta's chiding of the girls, Elin arguing with Johan arguing with his younger brother and Jessica arguing with everyone.

There had been more romantic moments, Agnes pondered, but she was enjoying sneaking little glances up at Elin, who was pointing her fork rather aggressively at Johan at that juncture. She was beautiful, in full flow like that. Agnes wanted to put her in slow motion and just study every detail.

She was spotted however: Elin looked over and their eyes met. With Johan and Jessica still arguing against her in that moment she was all Agnes'. She gave Agnes a little smile, lips quivering with amusement and a sparkle in her eye. It was a moment, a connection. And then she was gone again, back to threatening Johan in some debate that Agnes could not even follow.

Agnes' stomach churned. She was hopelessly in love with the fiery blonde. She might as well surrender to it, she was under siege. There was no fighting it. Better to accept it. It was a horrifying truth, but it was _the_ truth.

As the meal ended and the arguments wound down Agnes excused herself gracefully. She thanked Birgitta and Jessica for the meal, which was grudgingly accepted. Elin said she would call her tomorrow and she took a taxi back to the hotel where she sat on the edge of her bed for a while, trembling slightly, before finally getting in and going to sleep.

"You're not staying at the hotel, with Agnes?" Jessica was tidying the girls' bedroom ready to put up the camp bed for Elin.

"No!" Elin laughed.

"Okay, I just thought you would want to be... together, or something."

"No I think I can – wait, but you know we're not actually together? She has a girlfriend and stuff. We're not back together."

No, Jessica did not know that. "But you said – I thought you said – and she never – when I..."

"When you what?"

Jessica had been caught. "Nothing."

"When you what? Jessica, what did you do?"

"Nothing! I just had a little friendly sisterly chat. No big deal!"

Elin was not impressed. "Jessica!" she howled. "Why? What is wrong with you?"

"Me? What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you more like! I thought you said you were together."

"No, no. We just met. Again. You know what I mean." Elin flopped down on to the bed disconsolately. "Now what is she going to think? I haven't even thought about her like that. She's going to think I am a complete freak."

"You are."

"Oh grow up."

"No, you are. If you're not together why is she even here? If you haven't even thought about it – if it's not even an option – why are you even hanging out with her?"

"God, Jessica, I don't know. We bumped in to each other and it was weird but we hung out and, you know, we are good together. It's easy. We make good friends."

"But after -"

"I don't care, about that. I got over it. I can't live in that forever. It was exhausting." Elin sounded exhausted even uttering the words and her voice trembled a little.

They went back to folding clothes in silence for a few moments.

"You know when I did talk to her, she never mentioned a girlfriend."

"Why? Why are you telling me this?"

Jessica shrugged. "Just, interesting... I think." She kept a sideways eye on Elin to gauge a reaction but there wasn't really one.

They automatically started folding down the bed, a well rehearsed routine.

"Do you still love her?"

Elin sighed and put her hands up to her head, pushing back her hair and leaning a little to stretch her aching back, considering the question.

"Still? No, I don't think so. Fourteen year old Elin is still in love with her. But that's not me any more." She left it there, for the moment, though she knew that her current self was in no way immune to Agnes' charms.

Jessica pursed her lips but also left it there. Girlfriend or no Agnes obviously had designs on her sister. And her sister was such a complete weirdo you never could tell what she was going to do from one moment to the next. Like last time this was going to be a complete mess.


	7. Chapter 7

Agnes was dragged in to consciousness by the light coming in the window. It tugged at her brain and as she struggled to wake up she had that moment of panic, of not knowing where she was. Her hand grasped at empty sheets and she squinted as she raised her head. Ah, she was in Amal. She flopped back again and not for the first time wondered exactly what she was doing in Amal.

Swinging her legs out of bed she pottered over to the bathroom, with a nagging feeling that she was omitting something important. Making it all the way through her shower and getting dressed she pondered this odd sensation and chewed thoughtfully on her breakfast. It was only after her meal she realised she had not done her morning yoga and felt terribly guilty even though she hated it and there was no way of Kamilla knowing. Then she felt terribly guilty at only just remembering her girlfriend and hurriedly picked up her phone.

As she switched it on all was swept away: there was already a message from Elin. She was taking the girls to practice and hanging out with them in the morning and did Agnes want to meet them for lunch at the park?

Agnes chuckled. The Elin of old would have died a thousand deaths rather than watch someone at ice hockey practice – and a picnic lunch at the park? It was unthinkably different from the preference Elin previously had for their Saturdays, which to be fair usually involved petulantly traipsing round the town centre, kicking drinks cans through the park, sighing through evening television and resisting then capitulating to Jessica's invites to some party or another.

Not that Agnes could talk. She would have curled up with a book rather than do most things in the world – or in Amal at least. Some of her favourite Saturdays had been spent in one bedroom or the other doing homework with Elin, or leaned up against each other reading from the same magazine, or sat reading with Elin's head in her lap. Elin's issue had been boredom; Agnes' disdain.

Elin had overcome her semi-permanent sense of ennui. But Agnes still had a problem with disdain. With that sobering thought Agnes shook herself briskly, texted off a quick reply in the affirmative and headed out the door for a morning alone sight seeing in Amal.

Having not returned in ten years there was actually quite a lot to see. The flea bitten old cinema had been replaced with a new "entertainment complex". A building was missing here, a new one had arisen there. Agnes' parents had taken the opportunity of their eldest finishing education and moving on to move on themselves and had left Amal just weeks after Agnes had started at university, settling elsewhere for the rest of Oskar's high school career before they moved on again. So the first place Agnes went was her old house.

Trudging up that achingly familiar street Agnes felt a strange sort of homesickness for somewhere she had never really considered her home. Stood outside she appraised the house carefully. Something had changed in the paving, or the hedge. There had been a new coat of paint – one should hope so in ten years – and the curtains were nothing her mother would have chosen. She raised her phone to take a quick picture as the door opened and a man with a briefcase started as he saw her.

"Hi, sorry, I used to live here and..."

But he did not seem interested in introductions or the olden days. He got in his car and she hopped out of the path of his reverse on to the road. It was possible several families had lived in the house since she had and she wondered now as she looked up to her old bedroom window about the drama that had unfolded there, the action those walls had seen, the new arguments in the living room, secret assignations, lies and recriminations.

Agnes, feeling old and lazy, caught the bus from the corner back in to town and texted off that photo of the house to Oskar. She wondered briefly about going to the old school but decided against it. Instead, getting off the bus in town, she gravitated back to that place she so often had, back to that block of flats that still in her dreams rose out of the clouds so that she had to climb up to Elin's window on a beanstalk.

In the early days, their early days, it had been Elin who had done most of the running. Agnes, for all her desires kept herself largely stationary, self contained. It was Elin with her pent up energy put to good use that had shuttled back and forth. Until the day they had literally come out at school and that afternoon Agnes had never set foot in front of Elin's building. Elin had been the one constantly bouncing between town, Agnes' house, school, the park, home, the ice rink, the park, school, home, Agnes', home again. It had suited both of their temperaments. But as the months drew on Agnes had become more adventurous and Elin more settled.

Where they were – together – at any one time had become something of a diplomatic issue, constantly appraised, re-appraised, considered, debated and weighed. Welcome to varying degrees of grudgingness at either house under different conditions they were always wary of outstaying it and aware of the movements of others. Never had their family's social life been so scrutinised as when Agnes and Elin tried to map out their rendezvous. Jessica, clearly, was a hurdle. It had seemed easier to spend more time at Agnes' where at least they had the privacy of a non-shared bedroom. But Agnes had found the proximity of her mother and the ensuing tension unbearable for the most part. Elin's flat might be crowded but in many ways the polite befuddlement of Birgitta and the mandatory hostility of Jessica were simpler choices. Elin had seemed hardly to notice these things, her absolute sense of belief in herself and adoration of Agnes could not conceive of there being such issues.

So Agnes found herself stood at the foot of Elin's old building. She craned her head up, wanting to look to Elin's window as she had her own but was confronted by a bewildering and unfathomable number of identical windows staring back at her. She had forgotten that even at the pinnacle of her devotion she had never been able to identify Elin's bedroom window. She couldn't even remember, now, which side of the building it had looked out of, what the view had been. Feeling decidedly daft Agnes paced faithfully around the foot of the building trying to recollect where she might have stood previously to gaze up. Perhaps she never had. There had not been much need to, by then.

The first time she had entered the building Elin still had a firm grip on her hand. They had ridden up in the rickety lift and Elin had only let go to struggle to unlock the door, reassuring her there was no one at home. That hand holding, Agnes reminisced now, that reassurance, that wary eye, had been because Elin was afraid Agnes was going to disappear. That having gambled everything on Agnes she might run, or evaporate. Obviously Agnes had no such intentions or inclinations. But Elin hadn't known that yet, hadn't trusted it. She would come to though, and quickly. And then, after lulling her in to a sense of security, Agnes would ruin it all.

Dragged out of that uncomfortable reminiscence Agnes shuddered and came to her senses in that she was stalking a building like a loon. She turned quickly on her heel and began to walk away, head down, muttering to herself and had only taken a few paces when she almost walked in to somebody.

"Oh, hey, Agnes! Sorry, did I say to meet here? I forgot, am I late? Sorry."

It was a flurry of Elin, of course, all sports bags and clamouring nieces.

"Run get the lift for us girls," she instructed and the girls obediently disappeared in to the building.

Agnes' brain froze in horror at being caught out, but again Elin seemed unaware. Of course Birgitta must still live in that same flat and be preparing the picnic all that time Agnes had been encircling the building. Agnes decided, in a sudden new resolution of honesty, to admit she had been caught.

"I didn't – no, you didn't say to come here. I was just... looking." Okay, sort of half honestly.

Elin smiled mysteriously. "I know of course," she said tucking her hand through Agnes' arm and steering her back towards the building. "I just wanted to give you an out if you needed."

Agnes rolled her eyes at her own stupidity and blindness and allowed herself to be guided yet again in to that lift and on to the apartment.

Inside, apart from the additional noise, much was the same as it had always been. Elin saw Agnes' eye roaming around and was unsure as to what was going on behind them. She waited to see of Agnes' eyebrow raised in derision at the old worn furniture and out of date colour scheme, in recognition of so many items that had endured these past ten years. But there was no flicker of anything other than a quick look around and nostalgia.

Elin herself quite liked that little had changed here. She had spent all her teenage years complaining about her mother's modest fixtures and fittings but now would howl in reproach if Birgitta so much as mentioned getting a new carpet. Dumping the bags on the floor and kissing her mother quickly while watching Agnes mumble a greeting and duck her head blushing Elin leaned over and tugged Agnes out of the living room and in to her old bedroom.

Now redecorated to a more neutral and uncluttered guest bedroom it was still very much the room of her teens. Again she watched Agnes take it all in as she plopped herself down on a bed.

"So, what do you think? This is what you wanted to see?"

Agnes blushed furiously and began to stammer some sort of denial.

Elin just laughed. "Don't worry. God knows I went over and stood outside your house often enough. One time they even called the police."

That broke Agnes' shame a little. She could well imagine Elin arguing as police officers tried to move her on. She smiled and relaxed at Elin trying to make her comfortable but on the other hand there was a new bit of the picture of Elin's life once Agnes had gone and it was not a nice one.

Elin smiled again as Agnes moved to sit down on the bed as well, keeping a respectable distance, although that only served to remind them both more of the moment they were simultaneously remembering.

They had sat on Elin's bed. Surrounded by Elin and Jessica's teenage paraphernalia they had smiled shyly and giggled and sipped at the chocolate milk Elin had made. Agnes had drank it although she was yet to comprehend the abiding and all consuming love Elin had for the stuff. Elin had reached across to take the glass from Agnes and their fingers touched, like electric. Elin had slid along the bed and their arms had gone around one another and they had kissed.

Not clumsily, like the first time in Agnes' bedroom. Not furiously like the real first time in the car on the motorway. Not a perfunctory peck on the hard shoulder. It was tentative, testing. But caring. Already they had given up so much. But somehow they both knew it was worth it.

A clattering in the kitchen woke them from their reverie and they shyly rejoined the others. Agnes helped Birgitta finish preparing some food, politely answering polite questions about her job and Stockholm and her parents while staying far from personal issues. Elin superintended her nieces getting washed and changed and then they all headed out to the park.


	8. Chapter 8

At the park Birgitta sat on a bench with the food spread next to her and everyone else arranged themselves nearby on the ground. It was a little bit too cold to be doing this, Agnes thought in a spoilsport mood. Or maybe it was just Jessica, inducing some sort of weather disturbance and lowering the temperature a few degrees. A Jessica-chill factor. Agnes laughed to herself and snorted some grated cheese in to her windpipe making her cough and splutter. Jessica looked on not surprised by this display of dorkiness. Elin smiled so beatifically that Agnes almost choked again.

Despite the cold Spawn of Jessica the Younger was soon clamouring for an ice cream. Indulgent aunty Elin was roped in to a trip to the snack kiosk and Agnes followed for a chance to warm up a bit out of the icy glare of Jessica.

Blindly following Elin and the nieces she almost didn't realise where they were going. But the little snack bar kiosks had not changed, another Amal tradition held strong. The graffiti had been developed. Youths nowadays were so much more creative, Agnes noted.

Elin smiled conspiratorially. "You remember all those evenings we spent freezing out here?"

How could Agnes forget. Not that she wanted to, though she might say she did.

It was months after their triumphant march out of school on a regular sort of evening, hanging around the fast food kiosks, that everything had changed again. Jessica had pleaded and moaned and cajoled until Elin accompanied her to the hang out. Elin then telephoned Agnes and pleaded and moaned and cajoled until Agnes assented to going as well. It was always the same. Elin would need a lengthy persuasion but would always relent. In turn Agnes would put up a fight but ultimately she would yield to anything Elin wanted, or anything she didn't particularly want but asked for anyway.

So it was that Elin and Agnes huddled together, stamping their feet and pushing their chins in to their jackets to keep warm. Jessica, as Jessica always did, had disappeared, forgetting her desperate need to be chaperoned as soon as she arrived. Agnes and Elin stood a little way off from the others, the joshing and arguing still audible. Agnes muttered darkly and Elin appeased her, pulling on her arm that turned in to a stroke that turned in to a caress and there behind the bushes in the beams of light from the kiosks they were kissing.

This was unremarkable in itself; the teenagers had a teenagerly lust to rival the best of them. Over the months they had shaken off any shyness with each other and increasingly any shyness about doing such things in public. And yet there was something indiscernibly different this time. Perhaps the cold had galvanised them, perhaps their breath came hotter, perhaps the rhythm of the pumping music struck a chord, perhaps Elin's hands – though they were tucked in to her sleeves – grazed across a previously untouched part of Agnes' neck.

Whatever it was they certainly were spurred on by cold as they staggered across the bridge back to Agnes' house. Upstairs their breath certainly was hotter than ever before and Agnes knows exactly what she presses play on, calculated and saved for just this occasion. And so inevitably other things happened. Another milestone tumbled to them, another moment of significance. They swept it along in their great love story.

"Agnes! Come!"

Agnes shook herself from her reverie and discovered she had been left behind and had to run to catch up. When she did Elin was looking at her with a funny squint in her eye. She knew! She knew what Agnes had been thinking. She knew all of Agnes' inner thoughts. It was a terrible, wonderful connection. All those years had not altered it and try as she might Agnes was still an open book to that girl.

After the picnic they moved on to the playground. Agnes sat with Birgitta, with whom conversation had got easier. Agnes was remembering her respect for Elin's mother, so different from her own. They watched Elin chasing her nieces up and down the slide and pushing them on the swings. Something grew tense inside of Agnes, slowly winding its way around her stomach and constricting.

"She is so good with them," Birgitta noted proudly.

"Yes," Agnes agreed, though it was coming as more of a choke and she found she could no longer watch the wholesome scene. She looked down at her feet and rubbed at her shoe, feigning absent mindedness.

"I remember bringing her and Jessica, when they were little. It was all very different then. None of this matting, just grass..." Birgitta lost herself for a moment. Agnes wondered what the older woman was thinking about. And how her life must have been, younger than Agnes was now with two little girls. And which only got worse, as they got older.

"Did you come here, when you were little?"

"Mm? Oh, no." Agnes felt distracted. "I grew up... not in Amal."

"Oh yes, of course." Maybe Birgitta did remember or maybe she was just being polite. Maybe she had never known.

Agnes felt the distraction was just the edge of irritability. She shifted position abruptly and turned a little toward Birgitta.

"I think I am going to go. I've been walking around all morning, I've tired myself out."

There was a flicker of emotion in Birgitta that Agnes couldn't recognise. Concern? Disbelief?

"Very well, dear. Will you be at dinner tonight?"

"No, I don't think so," Agnes said briskly. "You need to have Elin to yourselves." Agnes realised her own emotion, that of jealousy. She was jealous and irritable and it was dangerous. She was right to leave. "Just, ask Elin to call me please, later, about what time she wants to leave tomorrow."

"Of course. Take care."

Agnes got up. "It was really nice to see you again," she said with a genuine fondness.

Birgitta smiled and Agnes turned, walking quickly away, hoping Elin did not see her.

Indeed Agnes had made it round the corner and out of sight behind some trees by the time Elin had rolled her littler niece off her and glanced over towards her mother. And Agnes, who was not there. She stood up, brushing herself down and patted her niece on the head before moving towards her mother, eyes scanning around for Agnes.

"Where did she go?" she asked as she drew close.

Birgitta shrugged. "She said she was tired. Back to the hotel I suppose. She asked you to call her later, tell her when you want to set off tomorrow."

Elin was still stood impatiently looking around the park. "When did she go? Not long?"

"No, just a few minutes. She was fine, Elin, don't worry. I didn't say anything to upset her."

Elin turned her attention back to her mother. "No of course not. I never thought that. She would have gone this way?"

Birgitta nodded at the general direction of Elin's hand, pointing in the vicinity of a park gate some way off.

Elin took off at a little jog. Agnes was always like this, sneaking away, thinking nobody either noticed or cared. She might catch up with her at the gate, or the bus stop if she had to wait there. She had no idea what she might do or say, or than that she didn't want Agnes simply to disappear or to think that Elin wouldn't want to say goodbye. She came round the trees where she had a better view of the path and there was Agnes, in retreat but not too far away. Elin picked up the pace a little and drew close enough to dare to call out.

"Hey!"

Agnes turned. Elin was almost upon her but she had slowed once she had caught Agnes' attention. She stood, a little way off. Even more hair had fallen from her messy ponytail and as she bent over to put her hands on her knees the hood on her sweatshirt flopped forward. Still trying to catch her breath she straightened herself and wrestled it back behind her. She fanned herself with her hand.

Agnes wasn't sure she trusted herself. She briefly considered just running away, running for her life away from this vision of gorgeousness and adorability. She also briefly considered just jumping Elin there and then, in the middle of the park goddammit because in that moment she was just perfection.

Agnes did neither of those things. She just stood.

"Hey," Elin said again, recovering herself sufficiently to move closer. She was concerned Agnes was not making eye contact. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, of course," Agnes was a little too sharp. She tried again. "Yes, thank you. I just wanted to go back to the hotel, for a rest."

"You weren't enjoying yourself?"

More than you know, Agnes thought. More than I should. What to say?

But she had hesitated too long. "Okay, fine," Elin said. "You're not coming to dinner?"

Agnes shook her head.

"Okay. Well, I'll come over afterwards. Can't drag you all the way out here and then abandon you."

"You don't have to. But, that would be nice."

It was uncomfortable, they had caught themselves in a bind. Elin just gave a little wave, turned and walked away.

Agnes turned, cursing herself and carried on along the path back to the road.

When Agnes got back to the hotel she had a nap, then took a shower, ordered a pizza from room service and sat on the bed watching television. She may also have sampled the mini bar so it was a much more relaxed Agnes that answered the door to Elin's knock.

Elin had determined to forget the weirdness of their parting and start afresh. "What have you been up to?"

"Just watching the lottery."

Elin grinned. "Oh yeah? Good news was it?" Although if she had won the lottery a minibar in an Amal hotel room is not how she would celebrate. Sneaky Agnes on the booze, she chuckled.

"Oh I wish. But I don't even have a ticket." Agnes wondered if Elin could tell she'd had a little drink. She had carefully disposed of the cute little bottles in the bin in the corridor so there should be no evidence. She concluded in the negative and congratulated herself.

"I should hope not. Such a waste of money. Better putting it in to savings," Elin teased. "But then that's why they call it gambling, not investing."

Elin hadn't been up to the room yet so investigated the bathroom, always the mark of a good hotel room and then moved around the bed to the little desk and window. Agnes sat on the edge of the bed.

"If I won the lottery -" Agnes began.

"Which you shan't, if you don't buy a ticket." Elin interrupted.

"But if I did," Agnes continued. "I would move to New York and be a writer."

Elin stood by the window, looking out on to the lights of the city. "Oh Agnes Ahlberg, never content. There's nothing to stop you moving to New York and being a writer now. Lottery or no."

"And you are content?"

"You can see my flat from here," Elin pointed out before turning to face Agnes and addressing the question. "Maybe. I figure, people in New York, they probably say "If I win the lottery I'll move to Stockholm." So by their standards we're lucky. But we never appreciate it."

Agnes stood and moved nearer to Elin, to the window. "Where is your flat?"

Elin pointed but Agnes didn't even try to look properly. "Hmm. So..." she traced her finger over the window, "That's the bridge you tried to hitch hike to Stockholm under." With just a little trace of sarcasm.

Elin laughed. "Yes. And I'm not saying that where people are isn't part of the problem. But not the whole of the problem. By the time I got to Stockholm, I mean I already knew it wouldn't fix me. And when we were younger I thought I would die if I stayed all my life in Amal." Elin looked down at Agnes who was still studiously staring out the window. "But now I see there are so many other things that matter. If I were happy, fulfilled, in love... it wouldn't really matter where I was."

Elin made the mistake of looking back at Agnes again, who was now looking straight at her. I hadn't meant – Elin thought – I meant generally. Not you, now, us. Or maybe that was what she had meant. She wasn't sure.

Their breath was coming shallow now, a current thrummed between them. Agnes felt that instinctive pull towards Elin, gravity pulling her back to her core. Her eyes darted between Elin's eyes and Elin's lips as she succumbed to that pull, helplessly. She bit on her lower lip a little, moistening them and felt her skin burn. She got within a range that there could be no doubt as to what was going to happen, head tilting down she looked up in to Elin's eyes.

And Elin moved. Elin drew away, she looked right back in to Agnes' eyes and she pulled back. Agnes came crashing down, where Elin had been centimetres from her fingertips, from her lips, now there was just cold empty air. Agnes felt bereft. Elin looked angry.

"I can't believe you were going to kiss me."

As accusations went it was pretty accurate. "I have wanted to for such a long time. I thought you wanted it, also."

Elin began to pace the room. Did she want it? Well of course she did, part of her did. But there were too many other parts, no consensus in her busy brain, not even a majority vote. She tried to hold on to all the tangled emotions, to form something coherent from them.

"But in a shitty little hotel room," Elin continued to pace. "And you with a girlfriend? Why would I want that?" Avoidance, she congratulated herself, nice. But it was still true, even if it weren't the whole truth.

"Okay, I know, I have thought about the Kamilla-thing," Agnes didn't really consider her choice of words until she earned herself a glare from Elin.

"Nice, Agnes. I'm sure your girlfriend of however many years would just love to be referred to as a 'thing'."

"I didn't mean that. I just mean: I know, I am aware. But if we are careful, just a little bit careful it doesn't have to be a problem."

Elin stopped pacing abruptly, frozen in her tracks. "It doesn't have to be a problem?"

Agnes had a bad feeling about this but couldn't for the life of her think of any other way around it. But Elin's face was slipping from anger to pain and Agnes didn't want that.

"I can't believe you." Elin was stunned. "I actually can't believe you. And to think -" She stopped herself. To think she had been falling in love.

A cloud of doom was gathering around Agnes. No matter what she said, this was not going to end well.

Elin had her hand on her head, dramatically pausing for thought, looking down at the skirting board. "I can't do this. I can't do this again." She looked up at Agnes. "You'd better make your own way back to Stockholm."

"But Elin -"

Elin was already at the door. "Hitch hike if you must. I don't care." And she left and Agnes remained, alone in some bland hotel room in this awful town.


	9. Chapter 9

Agnes caught the train first thing the next morning. She had been all for taking off immediately after Elin's departure the night before until she realised she wasn't expected until the next day and there was no point arriving in Stockholm at three in the morning and then having to stop in another hotel. So she suffered the journey on the Sunday morning in a foul mood.

Elin was in a similar mood as she packed her bags the next morning and hauled them back out to the car.

"Can't your girlfriend help with this?" Jessica moaned with a dash of sarcasm.

Elin pursed her lips.

"You're picking her up now from the hotel?"

"Yes," Elin said grimly. She really did not want to get in to last night with Jessica. So she chose the path of least resistance.

Jessica was clearly oblivious, as was everyone when Elin kissed them all goodbye and waved in to her rear view mirror. She turned the stereo up ridiculously high set off down the motorway.

By the time she got home Elin was still in a bit of a funk, despite the raucous and deafening music and slightly over the limit speed which normally sorted her right out. She was in even more of a funk with her luggage by the time she collapsed through her front door.

As consolation Elin rummaged through the cupboard for her two pint glass and set about making a monstrous chocolate milk. What would Agnes think, if she knew? Maybe it was best, best left to the past. You could never go back. Elin knew that, goodness knows she had tried sometimes. She and Agnes were different people now and maybe it was best that they remained as such.

If they got back together – though clearly there was little chance of that – if they had, it would have been so strange. Too much to renegotiate. All the things that had changed, all the things that hadn't changed. Elin still drank obscene amounts of chocolate milk. Agnes would look down on that. It would be like they had never been together, so different they would be and yet they would still have all this knowledge about each other, expectations and assumptions. It would be too hard. Too much.

And yet... this was Elin and Agnes she was talking about. They had come through so much to be together and Elin had blindly assumed they always would be together. They had never talked about it and Elin hardy thought about it, she just knew it to be true, instinctively and absolutely. Nothing could shake her from that conviction. It was just meant to be. Even when Agnes suggested an alteration to the nature of their relationship as she left Amal for university Elin never doubted their futures were inextricably bound. Even when email after email went unanswered. Even when calls were never returned it never occurred to Elin that anything else were possible. This was Elin and Agnes she was talking about.

No-one else had ever understood. And they still failed to understand as they tried to convince Elin about what had happened. Agnes had gone. But they didn't understand, she remonstrated, to her mother, to Jessica, to the school counsellor, to the doctor. The only person who understood was Agnes. But Agnes still didn't call, her parents moved away and then, six months or more later, finally, it was Elin who did not understand.

Agnes was also still in a mood when she got home and curled up on the settee citing tiredness. Kamilla was sympathetic, making Agnes feel worse, and made her a cup of tea and suggested a little nap whilst she made dinner. Despite not actually being sleepy Agnes soon found herself drowsing, mercifully released from the constant activity in her brain.

Kamilla was in the kitchen, chopping and frying and when the phone rang Agnes was merely annoyed, half asleep and grumpy.

"Oh, hi Oskar," she heard Kamilla answer and hoped she would tell her brother to sod off. In a more delicate manner.

"A good time in Amal? No, she was in Uppsala. No, I didn't go..."

Kamilla's voice was growing more serious throughout and Agnes was now fully awake. She sat up on the settee and watched over the back of it with widening eyes as Kamilla stood in the kitchen, holding the phone and nonplussed.

"Anyway, Oskar, she's just sleeping. She will call you back." Kamilla was now looking straight at Agnes, those eyes drilling right in to her. Agnes felt sick. Kamilla hung up though Agnes could still hear Oskar's voice on the line until he was cut off.

Agnes didn't know what to do. She was helpless, a victim of fate and her own lies, tossed about in a lifebelt on the open sea.

Kamilla held the phone for a moment, looking at it. Agnes imagined her a statue, immortalised with the phone in one hand, a spatula in the other, wearing an apron and with a realisation of Agnes' lies growing in her mind. Not a pleasant way to spend an eternity in bronze or marble.

Before Kamilla even started speaking, and oh how she did start speaking, Agnes felt petulantly that this was not her fault. She was a victim of terrible circumstance. Elin should never even have been at the photo shoot that day. Everything from there: their swift and comfortable reunion, all these lies, the deceit, the butterflies in her stomach, had been out of her control. The argument in the hotel, that had all been a misunderstanding. And now she had been exposed by Oskar, that little shit. And Kamilla was completely overreacting. Agnes was just caught in this maelstrom everyone else had caused. Damn Oskar for trying to be polite and make small talk! And never having the credit to call her mobile! Damn Elin for being so... Elin. And damn Kamilla, just for being there.

Still sat stupefied on the settee as Kamilla paced the kitchen, talking in equal parts to herself, to Agnes and to the large and invisible audience invoked when one has been outrageously and horribly betrayed by someone who is _just sitting there_ and _won't even try to explain_, the whole terrible artifice came crashing down on Agnes. She stood.

"It's all my fault," she said, largely unnecessarily as Kamilla was in absolutely no doubt that was the case. "I went to Amal with Elin. I stayed at a hotel. I visited some old places. I should have been honest with you. Because there's nothing to lie about. Nothing happened."

Kamilla just looked at her. Agnes chewed her lip, waiting for whatever judgment was coming.

"Okay," Kamilla said, finally.

Agnes blinked.

Kamilla shook her head lightly, more to dislodge the worries and paranoias. "We shouldn't do this now. We can talk, properly, tomorrow. When I've... digested."

Agnes wasn't entirely sure digestion would help but she wasn't about to say so. She nodded.

"You can take your dinner to the guest room and sleep there."

Feeling rather like a child being sent to her room Agnes mutely accepted her plate and trekked to the spare bedroom, flicking on the tiny telly and preparing for yet another long sleepless night.

However Kamilla seemed to have decided she needed more time because when Agnes got home the next day and crept with trepidation in to the apartment she only found a note on the shiny kitchen counter. "I am at my parents," the note said. Agnes' heart sank. "I'll be back in a few days. I love you, you know."

Agnes' hand shook, the note wavering in the air. This was pretty bad. If nothing else it meant that Agnes had to sweat it out a few more days. But she knew what she had to do.

Though clearly horribly callous after leaving Amal Agnes had gone forth with the knowledge and confidence that the most popular and hottest girl at school had fallen for her. That had rewritten her own view of herself and her abilities. Their relationship had strengthened her, built that confidence, given her a levity she had been missing to balance out her personality.

She had always believed she would be bad at break ups, that she would be back listening to mournful classical music and hacking at her wrists. But in fact she had emerged relatively psychologically unscathed from her post-Elin relationships. Kamilla was by far the most significant of those but Agnes could already feel it fortifying rather than draining her confidence. She had achieved good things with Kamilla, the fact it was now over did not detract from that.

The greatest anguish was Elin and that hadn't even begun. Agnes felt bad that she hadn't been in touch with the younger girl but she needed to get the "Kamilla-thing" sorted first. One thing at a time. She didn't need the distraction.

Kamilla arrived back at the apartment four days later with her immaculate luggage that Agnes did not doubt contained some self help self hypnosis CDs or some such that she would be hearing tips from soon. She sat on the arm of the settee and waited for Kamilla to re-emerge from the bedroom. She felt a sympathetic warmth towards her soon to be officially ex partner who sat on the other end of the settee smoothing down her top.

Agnes felt it appropriate that she should take the lead on this. "I'm sorry," she began, simply. "I should have been honest with you. I was very unfair. To you and to Elin."

Kamilla had seemed happy with how that was going until mention of Elin. Agnes winced.

"I'm not sure," Kamilla carefully constructed her statement, "Whether I'm particularly interested in how Elin fits in to this. I think it wouldn't be unreasonable if I asked you not to see here, just while we sort ourselves out. Re-establish that trust."

"Yeah... I know what you mean..." Agnes squirmed. "The thing is, I'm not sure whether I want us to do that."

Despite Agnes not articulating herself very well Kamilla did not lose any of the meaning. She looked genuinely shocked. "Are you seeing her?"

"No! No, she doesn't even know this is happening. I don't know whether she would even be with me. That's sort of a separate issue."

"Is it?" Kamilla was rightly perplexed. "It feels very much like the same issue."

"I know and that's my fault and I'm sorry. I've done this all wrong but I can't change it now. I'm just... trying to be honest." Agnes trailed off lamely but simply.

In the spirit of that honesty Agnes felt she should continue, though with a horribly agonised expression on her face. "Elin was my first. She was my everything. She has that power over me. She changed me and it's because of her that I am what I am today."

"I know," Kamilla consoled. "I know it can be weird having your exes around. And being friends with them again. I know. And you've dealt with my exes and you've been brilliant. But it ended, those relationships ended and for a reason."

That turned Agnes' feelings dark again. "There was no good reason. There was just me, being selfish and vile and immature... and I treated her so badly..."

Kamilla found a little shred of hope. "You don't have to feel guilty about that. If you're trying to make amends -"

"No, no it's not that."

"What then? Agnes you've known her again for a few weeks. You can't have fallen in love. And then to throw all this away – us away – on a few weeks?"

Agnes knew the truth was the only way out. "It's not been a few weeks Kamilla. Well it has -" She added hurriedly, lest it look like further deception. "A few weeks since I met up with her again. But all these ten years in between... I never stopped loving her. It was always her. And I always knew, really – though I never tried to find her – I always knew that if I did find her, if she did end up back in my life through fate or destiny or just plain chance... I knew I would go to her. I'm so sorry. It was wrong of me to ever be in this relationship. Because even with you, I knew I would always go to her."

Elin saw her phone flashing. It was Agnes. She held it to her chest for a moment, considering her options. It had been two weeks since they had returned separately from Amal and there had been no word in all that time. But it wasn't long before she took a deep breath and flipped it open.

"I have left Kamilla."

As opening lines go that was fairly impressive, Elin thought. "What happened?"

"She... found out about Amal. And we fought."

"Wait, did she leave you or did you leave her?"

"No, this was as soon as I got back. We've talked a few times. But it's not right. So I ended it."

"I never – I never wanted that."

"No, no I know. And it's not to do with you. Well it is, in that everything is to do with you. But it was me. I had to."

Elin wished Agnes wasn't just a crackly hollow sound on the phone but was simultaneously glad she was at a safe distance.

"I'm sorry," Agnes continued, sounding very small and far away. "I'm sorry about what happened. The other night. I was awful."

Elin couldn't stand it any more. Whatever the risks were she had to take them. "Do you want to meet? For a coffee?"

Agnes exhaled, as if she had been holding her breath the whole conversation. "Yes."

Elin had been quite deliberate about the coffee part. No drinking. At a neutral venue. So they met at a cafe and sat opposite one another in an uneasy truce.

Elin fiddled with her spoon and out of the corner of her eye watched Agnes squirm. The other girl had been explaining her new living arrangements, temporarily staying with a colleague and looking for her own flat. She was contrite and seemed changed by the experience.

This didn't make it all okay, Elin had resolved herself to that. No matter how charming or woebegone Agnes was going to be Elin had prepared. There was still too much emotion but with Agnes now there was always going to be too much emotion. That couldn't be helped and there was only one thing to do about it.

"Listen, I'm sorry, but," Elin steeled herself and looked away from Agnes' all-consuming eyes. "I can't see you again. I won't see you again."

To give her credit Agnes did not look entirely surprised by that, Elin noted. Not happy, certainly. But not surprised. She hadn't come in here expecting everything to fall in her lap, as it always seemed to. Elin would have loved to have done so. But this was wrong, for both of them.

"I understand you're upset. You have every right to be. And I'll do anything. Anything at all, if I just still get to be your friend."

"Agnes!" Elin was exasperated. "We can't be friends. You know we can't. There's too much history – good and bad." Elin felt gloomily that this was a cycle they were to relive down the ages: drawn together, torn apart. She could see that in her future and felt she could not cope, she had to finish it. Now. Here.

"But to meet up again and to feel – for everything to be so perfect..." Agnes couldn't let go of that.

"I know. And it's been wonderful. It's been good for both of us. I'm glad and I want you to – whatever you've been carrying for all these years, thinking about me, I want you to know it's okay. I forgave you a long time ago. And I never hated you. You can be free of it."

Elin looked so small and fragile yet brave and generous as she looked up tremulously that Agnes' arms flinched from wanting to hold her. This was it. Elin was letting her go. There was to be no grand reunion, just a resolution. It felt flat and hollow and empty despite having dreamt for a decade of Elin saying those words, releasing her from the guilt and pain. But she had wanted so much more.

Had she though? Had the guilt and all those emotions got caught up in some sort of fantasy? This was the dangerous ground that being back with Elin was opening up. She understood that Elin must have these doubts and paranoias and hangups herself, only more so, and that they could never be free of them.

Tears stung in Agnes's eyes as she eventually nodded. "Thank you." It came out hoarse and rasping. "You've been far better to me than I deserved."

Elin shook her head, still with fondness. "No, not at all. It's been really good, seeing you again." And really awful, she added silently.

She stood and Agnes hurried to her feet also. Elin held out her arms and they hugged, for the first time, for the last time. Agnes tucked her chin in to Elin's shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut just for a moment before letting go. It was too much, too little and too much again.

"Take care," Elin said.

"Goodbye," Agnes said.

And they walked away, neither daring to look back. You could never go back. So they walked away from their past, in to the future.


	10. Chapter 10

Agnes had developed a new Saturday hobby of shopping for furniture. She felt very grown up perusing home ware for her new apartment. Not so new any more, she had been there six months and was pretty well furnished – if not overly furnished – already. But it had become a fun little occupation that she didn't want to give up just because the apartment was bursting at the seams. There was always a new curiosity to uncover. So she was here at an antiques fair wandering slowly up and down the aisles.

It was a gentle, peaceful sort of leisure time which was the deliberate effect she had been cultivating for herself. Peace, tranquility, calm and quiet. She was recuperating from stress and drama and was indeed feeling much less tense than the previous year, even before Elin had crashed back in to her life. She had got rid of her television and spent her evenings poring over psychology text books from the library and writing murder mystery social commentary crime fiction, which appealed to her more wicked side and apparently there was a booming market for. In short, life was pretty good and she was pretty proud of herself.

Foregoing the temptation of a box of horseshoes she put them back on to the trestle table and moved on. It was reasonably busy but there was a respectfully subdued air, like in a museum. Nice looking couples milled around talking in low tones. Agnes began to feel that familiar tug of her intestines, a gentle reminder of her loneliness. Try as she might she had not been able to put Elin out of her mind. Sometimes she didn't even try, she took the desperate sensation and wallowed in it. That would teach her, she thought. She would be better, next time. But there was only one person she wanted a next time with. And she had already ruined that.

Agnes rounded the corner to the next row of tables, trailing her hand over the trinkets laid out on them, idly glancing over them. She became aware of someone stood in her way as she moved further down the aisle, so glanced up and stepped round at the same time her proximity caused the other person to do the same.

Elin glanced up to gauge the strangers approach. When she recognised Agnes she took a little step back, flustered. Part of her had always thought, had secretly considered, quietly wished for just such a reunion. And it would be somewhere like this. It still came as a shock and with its own fears.

Agnes shook involuntarily as every muscle in her body tensed. It was Elin. Of course it was Elin. She smiled quickly, eager to show there were no hard feelings and that this was a happy moment rather than traumatic.

"Hey," Elin said, small but perfect. She returned the smile. It was as if they had never been apart, never mind the last six months but the last ten years. It just felt so right.

"Hello," said Agnes, the smile a little shy now but completely glued to her face.

"I was just looking for a new..." Elin looked down at the mirror in her hands as she moved to replace it on the floor where it had been leaning against a table. But the angle wasn't quite right, Elin distracted by Agnes' presence, so that it slid in graceful slow motion all the way to the floor and smashed loudly.

Elin winced, tensing her shoulders and keeping her eyes closed as the echo died away.

"What was the price on that?" she asked Agnes, eyes still closed.

Agnes consulted the brochure. "Three thousand kronor."

Elin winced some more. "That's like a months rent. I wasn't even going to buy it. I didn't even like it." Finally she opened her eyes and beheld the mess at her feet and the angry staff heading in her direction.

Agnes looked down at the mess as well. "Well I quite like it. I think I'll buy it."

Elin scoffed adorably.

"No really. It's probably even better in pieces. Symbolic or commemorative or something. I don't know." The assistants arrived but Agnes cut through however they were going to approach this wanton vandalism by some scruffy young woman. "If I wanted to buy this mirror," Agnes indicated the thousand tiny mirrors on the floor, "Can you pack it for me?"

Elin tried to protest but was giggling.

"Ma'am, this is no laughing matter. You will have to pay for this."

"I will, I will," Elin avoided Agnes' eye to avoid laughing. "I'm sorry."

"No, I will," Agnes interjected as they made their way to the till with one member of staff as the other remained to sweep up the mirror's remains. "I happen to be a great fan of mirrors smashed by Elin Olsson."

At the checkout Elin turned and beheld Agnes semi-seriously. "I'll go halves with you and we'll stick it back together again."

"Deal," Agnes agreed as they both pulled out their credit cards. "We'll take it in two bags," she told the sales assistant.

Back at Elin's flat they deposited the bags of tiny mirrors on the floor. Elin peeked in, just to make sure it hadn't miraculously recovered. It hadn't. She sighed. "You know I worked it out one time, that the years of bad luck from smashing mirrors expands past any natural life span I might achieve. Even if I live to one hundred. And that's only from the mirrors I have broken up to now. Never mind any mirrors I have yet to meet. And inevitably break."

Agnes smiled, small and shy. The little inflections in Elin's voice, her tone and the thought processes as she ambled her way to a conclusion... it was all so familiar and so wonderfully Elin. That Agnes loved so much.

It was unbearable now, this need. Agnes had to keep reminding herself how things were different, how they had decided this. They were being sensible and grown up.

Over the past few months Elin had begun to harbour a dangerous thought that she might have been wrong, before. Sure it had been a mess, the execution of the reunion had been awful. But that didn't mean the whole idea was an awful one. And the longer time went on the less awful it seemed.

Elin balanced against the kitchen counter and watched Agnes for a moment, dragging her eyes up and down and not even minding when Agnes seemed to notice. She just tweaked an eyebrow in an almost-challenge. Eventually though the tension grew even too much for Elin.

"Drink?"

"Mm, please." Agnes leant up against the refrigerator. She was sure Elin had been checking her out. She felt that old familiar current dancing between them. But hadn't they decided they were new people now? That they weren't teenagers any more. That they had moved on from all that.

Elin backed in to the kitchen, opened the cupboard and all Agnes could see was boxes of chocolate milk. There it was. It had always been there.

Elin turned to Agnes to ask what she might like but Agnes was looking in to the cupboard as though she had seen a ghost. The chocolate milk! Elin looked back at it quickly. Shit, she had been discovered. She looked back at Agnes again, resigned to having lost a few points in the grown up game. But Agnes' returning gaze was electric.

In two strides Agnes was over the linoleum and pressing Elin up against the counter, her hands on Elin's hips and crushing in to the cupboards behind. Her whole body was pressed against Elin's where it fit so perfectly. Elin's hands were in her hair, pulling her closer. And they were kissing, kissing like it were the first time, but as if they had never stopped.

THE END

Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing, I really appreciate it. It's been enormous fun.


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